


Message received, loud and clear

by quietwandering



Series: Unlovable [2]
Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, johnny marr is not jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25084528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietwandering/pseuds/quietwandering
Summary: You don't have to tell me
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Andy Rourke, Johnny Marr/Morrissey, Morrissey/Andy Rourke
Series: Unlovable [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816741
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Message received, loud and clear

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist writing a follow up to But I Know - I was just too tempted by Johnny finding out. At first I wrote this long, angsty piece but didn't really like it in the end, it was just too fuckin' _sad_ \- I may post it as an alternative to this chapter but who knows. I'm also not sure if both these fics are prequels to Anticipation is a Stimulation, or if I'll write another Johnny/Moz/Andy piece instead. What a mystery. 
> 
> Please note Andy/Moz is only reference/implied in this piece. 
> 
> Title is [Unlovable](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qD5ZJBfObr4) by The Smiths

I’d sat in the hotel lobby for twenty minutes with our tour manager, smoking and picking at some chocolate I had left over from the flight in. It was the only food I could stomach waking up most times. Our manager, Phil, had given us plenty of American money to get necessities, but I’d barely had the energy to get up this morning - much less walk to a corner store or something.

The elevator sounded and out walked the rest of my bandmates. I waved them over impatiently, the ash flying off my cigarette in an arc, and shouted that they should be a little more punctual. I was immediately and appropriately told to fuck off, and that if I hadn’t crashed as soon as I got to my room I'd have been twice as late. They were right, of course. “We’re gonna have a bus come pick us up for soundcheck,” I said after my verbal lashing and pushed my sunglasses back up my nose.

“What about our equipment?” Andy said, bleary eyed, with an oversized cup of coffee. I shrugged in answer, but Phil chimed in to say that it was already at the venue. “Great...bloody tired of dragging it around in the first place.” 

I realized that Andy was standing remarkably close to Moz, their fingers almost brushing together, but I quickly dismissed the idea that it meant anything. I was just tired and overworked. “Could we stop for food on the way over? I’m starving,” Mike said, bouncing in place. Andy nodded in agreement, and we all made our way outside. 

The ride was filled with our usual idle chatter, and I sat in the front seat, eager to see all California had to offer. I wanted to bring Angie here for our honeymoon. The weather was so _dry_ and warm. I’d never seen people actually out and about with smiles on their faces, eager to get on with their day, and I pointed out all the tall buildings and funny clothes with growing excitement. 

A quick stop off at a diner down the road served us chips and toast and eggs, and I sat huddled in a booth beside Morrissey on one side, scarfing down my food too fast. I’d probably throw up later, but that was increasingly normal for me. At one point, I turned to ask Moz a question - I wanted to know how he’d slept since he seemed pretty out of it yesterday - but when I looked over I saw a noticeable string of bruises down the side of his neck, bright and vibrant - ones I know I didn’t put there. 

“You’re staring,” Morrissey whispered after a minute, glancing at me with an irritated expression. I could hardly hear him over all the clattering cups and plates. “Stop it.” 

I clenched my hands in my lap, tapped my foot some, and tried to shrug off the sting of jealousy. I had Angie, didn’t I? Morrissey and I were together, but I was just as loyal to her as I was to him. He could sleep with other people, too, if he wanted. He just...hadn’t, presumably. Still, I shouldn’t care if he went off and fucked some stranger. I wasn’t his keeper. 

We were rushed back to the bus before I had the chance to finish my breakfast. Phil said soundcheck was in just a few minutes, we had to hurry, and I tried to keep up with the conversations happening around me on the way over, nodding and laughing at the appropriate times. Morrissey’s eyes followed me every step of the way, always aware of every emotion going through my head. I was normally glad for that but right now it irritated me more than I cared to admit. I just wanted to deal with this on my own. 

At soundcheck, I fumbled through all my chord changes and struggled to get myself in tune with the rhythm section. I was infuriating everyone around me, especially Moz. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be right back. Just gonna have a smoke outside, clear me head,” I said, shoulders sagged in defeat as I failed to get through _This Night Has Opened My Eyes_ a second time. “Shouldn’t be but a minute.” 

I didn’t look at Morrissey as I went out the back of the venue. There was a secluded alley nearby where the traffic sounded distant and the sun didn't shine in from how close the buildings were to one another. Perfect place to get murdered, I thought grimly - and chances were someone already had if the smell was anything to go by _._

I sunk onto a somewhat clean part of the pavement, reasonably far from the trash bins, and pulled my cigarettes out. I debated if I wanted to try a line of coke this early in the afternoon, but everyone would notice if I came back in talking a mile a minute. I'd wait until the show tonight instead. That way I could focus all that restless energy into my guitar. Still...

“Johnny -” I jumped and looked over towards the backdoor. Morrissey was stood there with his cardigan pulled tight around him, his bushy brows scrunched together in worry. I gave a light wave but didn’t invite him to sit down with me. “You’re upset.” 

“That’s a pretty big assumption,” I snapped and immediately regretted how defensive I sounded. I didn’t need to look at him to know that I'd hurt him. “It's not any of my business anyways, is it?” 

There was a long silence, and I smoked to keep myself distracted. Morrissey walked over eventually and pushed his fingers through my hair, gently pulling it. I’d not greased it back yet today so I didn't complain - I normally would when he messed with it. “I was with Andy,” Morrissey whispered, and I shut my eyes. There was only one reason Morrissey would have been in Andy’s room last night - well, two reasons now, I guess.

I didn’t say anything as Morrissey sunk down next to me. He took my hand in his own, and I stared down at our intertwined fingers, lost in thought. I wasn’t a possessive person normally, far from it. I was happy to have two lovers and was glad that neither of them minded each other’s presence in my life. Angie and Moz got on well. I couldn’t ask for more than that, could I?

Morrissey’s other hand cupped my cheek after a moment, and I let our lips touch, let him kiss me. I slowly reciprocated, whether out of habit or need I wasn’t sure, and I shook my hand free to grab onto the back of his neck, thumbing the bruises. Jealousy flared up inside of me again, and I found myself unable to shake it off this time. “Was he good?” I asked, tone dangerously low, and Moz pulled back for breath, softly panting. 

“He was incredible,” Morrissey murmured. Those intensely blue eyes dared me to challenge him on that. I never hid the fact Andy and I had hooked up a few times in our late teens. I even joked about it, privately, from time to time, and I couldn’t deny that I’d honestly felt the same way - Andy’s fingers were seemingly as skilled as his tongue. I'd be ready to come just from kissing him sometimes, though the rush of hormones and the effects of puberty probably had something to do with that, as well. 

I slid into Morrissey’s lap, crowding him back against the brick wall, and pushed our mouths together again, messy and rough. My tongue shoved between his lips with a perverse intent, not wanting to be gentle or kind in the slightest. I was _determined_ to make Moz forget entirely about Andy. I wanted _my_ taste to be the one on the back of his tongue.

I touched his neck again, digging my fingers into the bruises there, and felt him shudder beneath me, desperately pulling at my leather jacket with a soft whine. I dragged my lips over his throat, sucking every red and purple welt Andy left behind, and let my teeth sink viciously into his tender skin. 

I realized, belatedly, that I'd probably been tempted into all of this by him. I couldn't be sure that he'd planned it all out exactly, but I was dead certain this was the intended outcome. It was probably just petty revenge for all our arguments about touring America, he'd hated the idea and told me constantly he'd rather just tour England, but I wondered if it maybe went deeper than that. Did he need to see how much I wanted him? Coveted him? I knew Moz would never tell me, but the thought still intrigued me. 

Leaning back, I spit into my palm and reached down to unbutton our jeans, stroking both of us in one hand. Morrissey’s head lolled back and exposed his neck to me once more, and I sucked hungrily at the bruises, new and old. As he shuddered against me, I dug my thumb into the tip of his cock - retribution for always having to put up with his nonsense - and I near slipped off his lap from how hard he bucked in response. 

“ _Johnny_ ,” Morrissey whispered, his eyes shut tight, and I kissed him til he was breathless. I ached at the thought of him walking back inside with swollen lips and fresh love bites. I wanted Andy to see that Moz was _mine_. My hand stuttered between us at the thought, and I came so hard I hardly registered that Moz was doing the same. 

I slumped down against his chest and blissfully trembled through the aftershocks. We had to finish soundcheck - plus we had a gig tonight - but I just wanted to stay here and hide away from all the responsibilities that awaited me in the real world. Moz cleaned up within a few minutes though and hurried us back inside before someone came to check if we’d died or something.

My guitar was impossibly heavy when I picked it up again, and I had to sit on the side of the amp in effort to not fall over. Thankfully I could still move my shaky fingers across the strings and got most of my chords correct this time. Andy, unsurprisingly, was glancing between Moz and I with a pensive expression. 

I smiled at him knowingly when he approached me after rehearsal. I flipped my bangs out of my eyes, cocksure and arrogant, as he stood in front of me, arms crossed. Then, without a word, he pushed his lips to my ear and pulled the lobe between his teeth, biting at it like we were 16 all over again. “My room tonight - the both of you,” he whispered, and I blinked in surprise but found myself nodding all the same. "See you soon." 


End file.
